


Intimidation

by writeitgood018



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 19:04:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18168854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitgood018/pseuds/writeitgood018
Summary: This is set in canon times, during the rally and right before Jack betrays the group.





	Intimidation

 When Davey first saw Spot Conlon, he laughed.

He couldn’t help it! After days of hearing the Manhattan newsies wax poetic about Brooklyn and their borough leader, the famous, feared, seemingly unshakable Spot Conlon, Davey had expected someone- well, taller!

Was it the dumbest thing he’d ever done? Probably, yes. Would it end with his teeth jarred into his skull? Judging by the look on the dark-haired boy’s face, Davey would also answer that positively.

There was nothing for him to do about it now, however. As the Brooklyn newsies flooded the theatre, vying for spots to stand amongst the ralliers, Davey inched closer to Race, hoping the presence of the taller blonde boy would protect him from Conlon’s displeasure. They were friends, right? Maybe Spot would ignore him in favor of Race, or better yet, ignore him altogether and forget it ever happened.

Spot jumped onto the stage, whipping the newsies into a frenzy as Davey and Race looked on, Race cheering and Davey wishing he could turn invisible.

Finally, the Brooklyn leader turned the crowd back over to Jack, hopping off the raised platform and, as luck would have it, beelining over to him and Race.

Davey cringed, his eyes scanning the room for a way out and his feet shifting restlessly. _Oh God, oh God, oh God,_  he repeated in his mind. _Please_ _don’t_ _punch_ _me_.

Staring down at his shoes, Davey felt rather than saw Spot stop in front of him. When he dared to glance up, the dark-haired boy’s eyes were focused on Race rather than him, bright and full of some foreign emotion.

Davey took the opportunity to get a closer look at the boy he was currently deathly afraid of.

He was even shorter up close — Davey towered over him by at least a foot — but somehow, it didn’t seem to matter. What he lacked in height he made up for in stature. The strong tilt of his jaw, his fierce eyes and hard mouth, the sheer muscle of his arms, all giving off one singular impression: _don’t_ _fuck_ _with_ _me_.

Lost in his mind, Davey barely noticed Race calling his name, only snapping out of his stupor when the other boy elbowed him hard in the side.

He yelped, instinctively jumping back and wrapping an arm across his torso protectively. Looking up, his eyes caught Spot’s, dark and glinting, and he quickly flashed his gaze back to Race.

The blonde-haired boy laughed.

“Aw, c’mon Dave, you know I’se only joking. That right, Spotty?” He turned to the shorter boy, and Davey held his breath. Never once had he heard anyone refer to the leader of Brooklyn by anything other than Spot, or Conlon, or Spot Conlon, words strung together in a clear sign of fear and respect.

He took a very small step back, unsure of what the leader would do.

So when Spot simply rolled his eyes at the taller boy, Davey was surprised to say the least. And when Racetrack slung an arm loosely around Spot’s shoulders, the other boy not shrugging him off or making any move to stop him, Davey was stunned into silence.

Despite the Brooklyn boy’s reputation, he was nothing like Davey had expected, in more ways than one.

As he mulled over this new information, Spot started to walk off in the direction of the stage, pulling Race with him. The blonde-haired boy sent a quick wave in Davey’s direction, before allowing the shorter boy to drag him away.

Davey watched them go, the height difference almost comical, but he wouldn’t dare laugh, not again. He’d learned his lesson.

Turning his attention to the stage, Davey settled in to watch Jack address the crowd. Spot Conlon and Brooklyn attending the rally signified that they would throw their support behind the strike, and with them the rest of the boroughs.

With the way the strike was going, nothing could go wrong, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I’ve been working on a fic but inspiration is a fickle thing. Hopefully I get it up by the end of the week. Anyways, this is based off a prompt from my tumblr (@king-of-brooklyn), I wasn’t sure I would post it but I changed my mind. So lmk if you like it and what you’d like to see me write next if you want!


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